Only If For A Night
by moonshoespotter101
Summary: The days are only bearable when Sherlock knows who is waiting for him in his dreams.


His hands instantly went to John's hair, getting his fingers lost in it, caressing John's scalp as he pulled him closer to himself.

He never wanted to let him go, for he knew that the second he did, he would be gone again. He wept as they kissed. John brushing them away with his fingertips. His touch was heavenly, so soft but so strong.

'I love you, John. I love you so much. I'm sorry I did say it before. Please don't leave me.'

John didn't reply, so Sherlock clung to him tighter, as if willing them to fuse together so they could live on as one, as it always should be. Sherlock-and-John. That was the deal. That's what he had promised.

'Sherlock.'

_I heard your voice. As clear as day._

He was so real. Sherlock swore that it was him, that he lay in his arms at that very moment.

Sherlock knew it wasn't going to last.

He wasn't stupid. He knew what happened.

It was the same thing that had happened so many times before.

But he didn't care. All that mattered was that John was there. There with him.

He had his John back, home, safe.

_Only if for a night._

'I miss you so much.'

The pain was truly unbearable. It made him want to vomit. Constant bile stuck in his throat, strangling him slowly, painfully.

He showered John's face with kisses, trying to reach every part of him, all the while crying uncontrollably. The time he had with him was so short, that he spent every second showing John how much he meant to him, how much he loved him. As if making up for years of neglect, and the times he didn't show it when John was... was... he couldn't even think it.

Tears streamed as he continued his desperate pleading.

'I love you John. Please come back. Please don't leave me.'

John stroked Sherlock's hair softly, kissing his forehead.

'Please John. I can't do it on my own. Please. I'm begging you. Please come home.'

He could feel it begin to fade away, and he clung on with all his strength.

'No. _NO. _Please don't go. John...'

He woke with tears falling down his pale face.

The same as last night.

The same as the night before.

Because John only returned to him in his dreams. He only ever saw him again when he dreamt. And for that short time, he was whole again.

He spent it in complete euphoria, allowing himself to get lost in a world were John existed. No matter how heartbroken it left him when he woke up, he would not give up that time with his beloved doctor for anything.

Because in that short time, he wasn't alone. John was there. He had him back.

_Only if for a night._

'No.' he growled, shifting his position so he hid John from view. 'No.'

He tried to look defiant, but it was difficult when tears were streaming down his cheeks. Despite that however, he had a murderous look in his eyes that would make most men flee. They would not take his John. Not this time.

He felt the darkness loom in from all sides, edging closer and closer to were the two men stood, clinging to one another. Sherlock tightened his hold on the doctor, reaching his other hand behind him and pulling them closer together. He used his entire body to shield John, protect him. He would rather die than let anything happen to him.

'Take me.' He stated loudly.

Silence.

'Take me instead. Leave him alone. I will take his place. Take _ME._'

No answer. The silence was eerie, deafening.

'TAKE ME!' He roared, his hands gripping into John;s back in a desperate bid to keep him from slipping away. Like he had done every single time.

But not. This. Time.

'_**TAKE ME!'**_

Suddenly, he felt his own hands on his back, clinging to his jacket. He spun round and howled out in despair. John was gone. He was gone, and he was never coming back.

It hurt.

Oh god it _hurt._

He screamed out in pure agony. One name.

He woke like he always did. Silently.

The horrors of his nightmares were his to face alone. He refused to make himself look weak and he damn well wasn't looking for sympathy.

He took every case, not matter how trivial. And he hurled himself into every single one.

Within weeks he was somewhat of a hero at Scotland Yard, after having put away dozens of wanted criminals as well as saving countless lives.

He was still the same old Sherlock. Grumpy, rude, insensitive. But something had changed in him. He was capable of tolerating bad company without shooting them in the head. He was more aware about the things he said to people and how much it would effect them, asking John for advice.

'Not good?'

'Bit not good yeah.'

He had somehow managed to understand a person's feeling solely through the predictably of his flat-mate. John was entirely to thank for that one.

Lestrade didn't mention anything. Sherlock didn't seem to notice when he talked to John in thin air, asking him questions, wanting his opinion. The DI was slightly afraid that if the detective knew that he did so out loud, he might not be able to cope. So he left him at most crime scenes, him and his ghost doctor.

He didn't return to talking to his skull. He resumed displaying his brilliance to his colleague, though the conversation was rather one-sided. Sherlock didn't mind though. It always had been.

Mrs. Hudson was the only other one who noticed Sherlock's strange behaviour, and that was only because she could clearly hear him talking to John from downstairs, but she too, let it go.

Sherlock was left to suffer in silence.

Until he left this world, and found John in the next.

_Only if for a night._


End file.
